Tough Love Mixed With Hard Advice
by SilverPen001
Summary: McCoy gets a chance to pass on some advice to other Starfleet CMOs as they prepare for their own five-year missions in the great unknown. One-shot.


**Hey y'all! This has been floating around in my head for a while now, and I finally finished and posted it. This is a kinda serious fic about a little head canon I have, and I know it may be shared by others. Please let me know what you think at the end.**

 **Happy** reading!

The _Enterprise_ had returned to San Francisco from a successful five-year, deep space mission three years ago. After a series of long, involved debriefings, taking months in the cases of the bridge crew and senior command, Starfleet Command had made the decision to launch five more missions after the fashion of the mission the _Enterprise_ had ventured on. Ships were procured, officers commissioned and briefed, supplies were gathered, and a launch day was set.

As the launch day steadily approached, Starfleet Command had one more bright idea.

 _"The day before the launch, there's going to be a senior command dinner we are invited to. They want each of the_ Enterprise's _senior command to prepare a few words of advice to share with the senior commands of the ships that are launching next week. Real short, just five or so minutes." Admiral Archer addressed the senior command._

 _"Sir, the launch is in a six days. That means the dinner is in five days. That means we have four days to prepare advice. If they want us to speak so badly, common curtesy demands a few weeks' notice, not a few days!"_

 _"Bones!" Jim hissed, embarrassed at his best friend's outburst._

 _"It's alright, Captain Kirk, it is quite sudden and unconventional."_

 _Jim sighed heavily. The captain had gathered his senior command at the request of the admiralty to inform them of the latest change to the launch week agenda. Some were taking it better than others. "Please continue, Admiral."_

 _"You will be seated by ship, with an Admiral or two at every table, so at least you'll all be together. The speaking order will be this: Lieutenant Uhura, first, to the senior comms officer, then Chekov to the nav officers, Sulu to the pilots, Mr. Scott to chief engineers, Commander Spock to the first officers, and then Kirk to the captains. There will be holding a question and answers session at the end-"_

 _"Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait a second," Bones interrupted. "What about me? Are CMOs not invited to this dinner? They don't think they need advice?"_

 _Admiral Archer blinked. "You protested, so I didn't think you wanted to speak."_

 _"Why the hell wouldn't I? I got some pretty damn good advice for all those poor souls going out there into deep space! I damn well want to say it!"_

 _"Doctor McCoy, is there really a need to address the medical officers?"_

 _Silence fell. McCoy broke it by barking a harsh laugh. "That question, Admiral, is the exact reason I need to say something to them."_

 _Admiral Archer appraised the Southern doctor and gave a crisp nod. "In that case, Doctor, you will follow Commander Spock."_

 _McCoy nodded his head. "Thank you."_

 _"Alright, so now that that's settled, is everyone clear on the schedule for the next few days?"_

And that is how the senior command of the _U.S.S. Enterprise_ wound up sitting on the stage holding the speaking podium, addressing the newest wave of Starfleet adventurers. McCoy sat in line alongside the others, listening to Spock finish his address to the First Officers. Well, he was half-listening. The doctor was lost in thought, thinking about his own words he would be saying tonight. A round of applause broke him out of his thoughts. Spock was done- that made it his turn. He stood as Spock walked past him to his own seat and walked to the podium. McCoy stopped right behind it and looked out in the audience.

"Good evening, distinguished officers, Admiralty, and most importantly- doctors. I am honored to be able to speak with you today. If I could, can the house lights come on and would all the chief medical officers please stand?"

There was a rustle as the indicated personnel complied. McCoy smiled.

"There y'all are. Now we can see each other's faces." McCoy stood a little straighter. "My name is Doctor Leonard Horatio McCoy. Most people call me McCoy, Doctor, Leonard, or, in the case of a few special women, Len." There was a light chuckle. McCoy smiled slightly. "My captain calls me Bones. It's a name that serves a dual purpose; y'see, I've known Jim for over a decade. I can honestly say he's the only reason I'm alive today, and that most of those situations are his fault in the first place. I met Jim on the shuttle to Starfleet Academy. We had an… interesting recruitment, to say the least, and neither of us fit in much, and when we first met, I told him that all I had left was m' bones. That's the first purpose the nickname serves. But it's the second part I'd like to address today.

"Jim is a lot of things, and one of those things is a huge nerd. He doesn't like to admit it, so this stays between us, but he knows a lot about history, specifically Terran history. And that's where the second meaning behind my name originates. Doctors of old were once nicknamed 'Sawbones', because of archaic techniques and their hands-on care for patients. This term was most often heard in the South of the United States, where I'm from. After a few weeks of watching and receiving care from me, Jim started calling me Bones- told me it was because I reminded him of those doctors. The ones who saw the patients and not just the tricorder readings."

McCoy paused. "By show of hands, how many of my fellow doctors in the room have served on a starship before?" All five hands went up. "And how many have been CMOs previously?" Two hands came down. "How many of you that are left have served with the people on your ship before?" Another hand went down. McCoy nodded. "Ok, so we're diverse. Everyone please put their hands down. Here's my last question- how many of you have gone on a mission longer than a year and a half?" No one raised their hand. McCoy looked solemn. "That's what I thought. Doctors, I'm going to share with you some hard truths tonight in addition to my advice. And I don't do it to discourage you, I'm doing it to prepare you.

The good doctor gripped the podium tightly. "Doctors, you're going to be spending the next five years in deep space with the same people day-in and day-out. My first bit of advice to you is to be part of the crew. Make friends. Talk to them. Be one of them. It will make it easier to help them and it will help you. But with that comes the first hard truth: At some point, it will be your friend you are treating. It may not be serious every time, but it will be eventually. At some point during your mission, _you will be emotionally compromised_. But you can't hand the case to another doctor because they will be compromised too and look to you for guidance. You need to know now, what will you do?"

McCoy let that sit for a moment. Then he spoke again.

"My next hard truth is this: you _will_ be attacked, or there _will_ be a crisis, and _you will run out of medicine_."

Solemn, shocked silence fell.

McCoy's face was weary, battle-lined and serious. "There is almost nothing worse than the feeling of rationing medicine. Nothing worse than having your friend come to you in your med-bay with a bad flu that you could cure in two days if you had the correct medicine, but instead the process becomes long and painful because that medicine wasn't available at the last place you docked. Nothing worse than rushing your friend into surgery after an away mission gone wrong, praying you have enough anesthesia. Nothing worse than knowing you don't. Nothing worse than finding a less explored planet, not knowing what could be down there, but knowing that you may not be able to treat it, and the closest base for help is 3 days away with warp. _Nothing worse_ than your _friend_ coming to you with a headache, stubbed toe, or fever, hurting and tired, _asking for help_ , for something to ease the pain, and you have to turn them away saying 'I'm so sorry- I can't help you. I need to save that medicine for something else, just in case, because we aren't restocking anything for the next year at least.'"

Silence reigned in the room. The other doctors met McCoy's eyes seriously. The Admiralty, senior officers and the _Enterprise_ crew listened in shock to McCoy's description of his experience.

"So this is my second bit of advice: Make the tough choices. Be strict with physicals, and rationing. Know your limits, and know your crew. No one on your ship will know more about her crew than you. The captain may think he's close, but you will have been there for every broken bone, mild fever, and serious sickness this crew will have. That's my third tidbit of advice: Know what you need and beg on your hands and knees to get it if you need to. Because, hard truth number three: Starfleet Command is not made of doctors. They only see adventure and glory in the black depths of space. They can't see the medical nightmare it will become for you. They underestimate how it will affect them and you will become understaffed and understocked because you will be denied what you need. Such is the nature of our reality as doctors."

McCoy was quiet, looking out at the room. Finally, he spoke again. "I don't say any of this to discourage you, or to scare you. I only want to share with you what I've learned, doctor to doctor. This trip will be a professional nightmare, but it will be a personal gift. Nothing will compare to the time you will spend together on your ship. It is your home, and her crew your family. I just want to ensure you can take the best care of your family, and save more of them than I could of mine. Godspeed and good travels, doctors."

McCoy nodded to the other doctors, and moved to sit down.

There was a solemn silence in the room, following the doctor's remarks. No one seemed to know how to break the atmosphere. After what seemed an age, Jim Kirk stood and looked his CMO dead in the eyes and began clapping. A rousing chorus of applause rang through the room. Jim pulled McCoy up to stand and be acknowledged, a request with which he grudgingly complied. As the applause continued, he overheard Admiral Archer flag down a yeoman and whisper orders for all medical supplies on the outgoing ships to be doubled as much as possible before takeoff.

The doctor's smile became real.

 **R &R please!**


End file.
